


glass shards

by bloomsoftly



Series: green to the end of days [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Body Horror, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 19:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11320194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomsoftly/pseuds/bloomsoftly
Summary: An accident in the lab has painful consequences for Darcy. Bucky helps her pick up the pieces.(based on a prompt from llygaidwideshut)





	glass shards

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to [Wino](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Wino/pseuds/Wino) and 

On the fiftieth trial of the Terrible Trio’s experiment, something actually happened.

Darcy was neck deep in the pile of paperwork the scientists insisted on ignoring—Tony straight up refused to fill it out, Jane’s handwriting was illegible to anyone but Darcy on the best of days, and Bruce claimed that bureaucratic inanities tried the Big Guy’s patience. She didn’t believe that last one, but Bruce was by far her best-behaved scientist so Darcy let him get away with the excuse.

For once, the scientists seemed to have things well in hand science-wise. They hadn’t even reached hour forty of their bender, so Darcy felt justified in leaving them unsupervised for a couple of hours while she dug into the bureaucratic bullshit of Stark Industries. In hindsight, that decision was a total mistake.

Darcy was so absorbed in her paperwork that she missed it when Tony distracted Bruce with some off-color quip. The scientist’s measurement was off by a millimeter as a result, and no one noticed.

Chewing on a pen—trying to decide whether form 2187-A or 2187-B was most appropriate—Darcy also missed it when Jane tripped over a machine cord in her haste to mark down Trial #49’s disappointing results. The plug didn’t come all the way out of the wall, and Jane continued obliviously on her way.

She didn’t notice the smoke creeping across the floor at first, but jumped at the subsequent explosion of sound.

The scientists shouted at her in unison, but it was already too late.

 

* * *

 

There was a click, followed by a flood of light. Bucky blinked several times at the sudden change, knife already drawn and poised to throw.

It was Sam.

His hand faltered, then dropped back to his side. After all the years and all the horror, Bucky needed the dark and the quiet to find some semblance of peace. He retreated to a soundproofed room off the gym several times a week, and it was rare—unheard of, actually—for anyone to interrupt Bucky’s meditation unless there was a call to assemble.

He was already headed in Sam’s direction, mouth open to ask for a sit rep, when Sam held up a hand. Bucky stopped and cocked his head in question.

“There’s no call to assemble, Barnes. But there’s been an…incident…in the tower.”

Retrieving his knife, Bucky flipped it lightly with his fingers. It was mostly reflex, and gave his restless muscles something to do. “What kind of incident, Wilson?”

“Stark, Banner, and Foster were working on an experiment. It went wrong, and Foster’s assistant got caught in the crossfire.”

“Darcy?” Bucky’s heart thudded hard in his chest. He liked the woman. She was brash and mouthy with a bold smile and curves that went on for days. They didn’t know each other well, but it was impossible not to be aware of her. She was a force of nature—the kind of gusty wind that wore away at his hard edges and general resistance to the 21st century.

Within seconds, Bucky was only steps away from the door and the other man. His body moved on instinct as his mind whirled with possible scenarios and extraction plans. Sam’s eyes lit with recognition, and he muttered a soft “ _Fuck_.”

“I forgot you knew her, Barnes, sorry. She’s not injured.” Sam hesitated, mouth working as he tried to think of the right thing to say.

Bucky’s hand clenched around the knife; it was no longer spinning in his hand. “Spit it out, Wilson.” His weight shifted forward, ready to explode into motion.

Sam held out his hand again in a steadying motion. “Give me a second, man. This shit is weird to explain, alright?” He sighed. “You know how they work on crazy shit in the labs?”

Bucky did know; he avoided the lab floor at all costs as a result. At his terse nod, Sam continued, “I don’t even know how to say this, man. They were working on something—I can’t tell you what they were trying to do, it all goes over my head—and something went terribly wrong. And it—” he rubbed a tired hand over his face, “—it did something to Darcy. Changed her.”

Shifting his weight, confused as to why Sam sought him out when immediate intervention wasn’t required, Bucky questioned, “Changed her _how_ , Sam?”

With a helpless shrug, Sam elaborated, “It changed her body. Like, completely.”

Utterly baffled, Bucky stared at him in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

With a huff, Sam spit out, “Man, she woke up with a different body. Like a male version of herself.”

Choking on his own spit, Bucky sputtered, “What?”

“Yeah, man. I told you it was fucking weird.” After a slight hesitation, Sam added, “She’s having a hard time, Barnes. A really hard time. Won’t come out of her room, or talk to anyone. Jane and the other two are working on a cure as fast as they can, and I thought—”

“You thought I could help, somehow,” Bucky finished skeptically.

With a significant glance at Bucky’s prosthetic arm, Sam agreed, “Yeah, I did. You know a thing or two about body horror. And being uncomfortable in your own skin.”

As always, the reminder of what he’d lost stung. But that, Bucky supposed, was the point. He did know a thing or two. And if he could spare Darcy some discomfort, it would be worth facing his own.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Talk to her, for one. Let her know she isn’t alone.”

 

* * *

 

“Miss Lewis, Sergeant Barnes requests entrance to your apartment.” From under Darcy’s mountain of blankets, FRIDAY’s voice sounded gentle. Like the AI was talking to a wounded animal. Which, she figured, might be a fair assessment. She was definitely hurting, and didn’t feel at all like herself.

Without moving an inch—she’d finally found a spot that didn’t send her muscles into spasms, as long as she stayed as still as a statue—Darcy asked, “Bucky? What does he want?”

There was a tiny pause, then FRIDAY answered, “To help, Miss Lewis.”

Bitterly, she scoffed, “Well unless he’s been hiding a scientific genius that can outsmart Jane, Tony, and Bruce, I don’t see what good he can do.”

Bucky’s voice floated from the doorway. “I have a little bit of experience with pain, doll. And with feeling like a stranger in my own body.”

At the sound of his voice, Darcy flinched. Her back and arm muscles immediately cramped, and she sobbed soundlessly into the mattress. She couldn’t answer, consumed with pain and despair.

“Will you let me help you, Darcy? You don’t have to do this alone.” His voice was closer now, and Darcy flinched involuntarily at the thought of him pulling the covers back and looking at her. Other than the scientists and Dr. Cho, no one had seen Darcy since the _incident_. She couldn’t handle it, couldn’t even look at herself.

Instead, she had sequestered herself in her bedroom, turned off all the lights, and hidden herself under a pile of blankets so thick she couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face. No, not _her_ hand. Her hand didn’t look or feel anything like that. But it seemed to be attached all the same.

Bucky patiently reminded her of his presence. “Will you let me help, Darcy?” he coaxed gently. His voice drifted over the covers, level with her head. She had an image of him kneeling at her bedside, that gentle look in his eyes he got sometimes when he looked at Steve and still saw the sick little boy from Brooklyn.

She choked on a sob at that thought, not silent this time. “It hurts, Bucky.” It was a desperate wail, a literal cry for help.

There was a rustling sound, and faint pressure from him smoothing the covers next to her head. He didn’t touch her at all, which she was grateful for. At the same time, all her muscles tensed and focused in his direction, wanting him to soothe their hurt.

“What hurts, Darcy?”

She laughed, sharp and bitter, around a throat clogged with tears. “Everything, Bucky. Everything hurts.”

The sound of shifting fabric reached her ears. Still calm, still gentle, Bucky responded, “Alright, doll. Let’s take this one step at a time.”

 

* * *

 

They talked for what felt like hours. Other than softly probing questions, Bucky just sat and listened. She told him about the pain, about the discomfort. He listened as she described her inability to walk on legs that were too long and weirdly shaped. How her hands were too big to button a shirt or grip a glass of water properly.

Most of all, he understood when she told him about the spasms and the pain. “Ah,” he said, when she spoke of the nerves that set themselves on fire with every little movement.

Overwhelmed, Darcy stopped. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she tried to keep her breathing even. Without commenting on her emotional state, Bucky smoothed a hand against the topmost blanket and prompted, “Do you trust me, Darcy?”

She thought hard about her answer. It was true that she’d always liked him—he was genuine and funny and had never given her a reason not to—but trust was another matter altogether. Then again, she’d let him in, figuratively and literally. “Yes,” she whispered.

(read more link here)

For a moment she thought she’d been too quiet even for his enhanced hearing, but then he asked, “Will you give me your hand?”

She froze, torn. Bucky didn’t say anything else. Eventually, she worked up the courage to inch her hand outside the covers in his direction. She turned her face into the pillow and squeezed her eyes shut even though her head was still safely ensconced in her little cage.

Gently—so gently—Bucky took her hand. After a moment in which her hand only rested in his, he began massaging the muscles in smooth strokes. He worked over every tiny section of her hand, leaving no muscle or bone untouched. Alternating between deep, satisfying pressure and light circles when it became to much and her hand trembled, slowly he was able to coax her body to relax.

When his fingers slowed to a stop, Darcy gave a relaxed, sleepy sigh. The excruciating pain from before had eased. His fingers rested lightly against hers, the calluses catching on the soft, untouched skin of the limb that was connected to her body but wasn’t really hers. He rubbed little circles into her palm.

 

* * *

 

Bucky breathed a silent sigh of relief as Darcy’s breathing evened out and the tension in her body slowly faded. Her heart rate slowed, and she drifted off. While it was unlikely that she would rest easy, he hoped that she would be able to get at least some kind of rest.

He waited at the side of her bed, still rubbing light circles into her hand, until he was sure that she had slipped fully into a deep sleep.

After lingering several minutes too long, Bucky finally released her hand and stood up.  Carefully, he moved her hand back under the blanket, so that she was once again entirely covered. Skimming a light fingertip over where he knew her head to be, he whispered, “Sleep well, doll.” The words lingered in the air like a blessing, still and heavy.

Silently, he made his way back out to the hallway.

“FRIDAY, I’m going to need a few things.”

 

* * *

 

When Bucky reached for her foot, Darcy flinched violently.

She couldn’t seem to help it, even though he’d already been working on her hands and arms for the better part of an hour.

Even though she tried to relax, she couldn’t seem to make her muscles unclench. She hissed as her calf muscle spasmed. Through gritted teeth, she begged, “Please, talk to me. Distract me.”

He did. In rumbling, low tones, he told her about the trouble he’d had with his arm, the horror—both in the days of Hydra and afterward. Softly, he told her about the serum’s effects on his body, and how even with the enhanced senses and immense increase in strength, some days he still had trouble coping.

He massaged her calf as he spoke, and one by one her muscles relaxed. In all honesty, she didn’t know whether it was his movements or his words that helped more. Soon, the sounds coming from her mouth stemmed from relief rather than pain.

Warmth spread through her veins, thick and lingering like honey. “Thank you,” she whispered, so quiet she almost couldn’t hear her own words. Bucky said nothing in reply, but ran a gentle finger along her ankle in acknowledgment.

Once again, Darcy pressed her face into the pillow to silence her tears. These were bittersweet, and full of gratitude.

 

* * *

 

“Bucky, I can’t do this.” Her voice was muffled under the blanket, but the fear in her tone was as clear as a bell.

He stopped immediately, halfway through the motion of pulling the covers back. If she couldn’t go on, he wouldn’t force her. Would never force her. But he got the feeling she just needed a little encouragement, instead.

“What is it, Darce? What do you need?”

The silence weighed heavily in the room. He stood frozen, blanket still clasped in hand, unwilling to shatter the progress they’d made.

She choked, “I don’t—I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Quietly, he offered, “I can find someone else to come help.” She didn’t answer for a long moment, and he had started to release the blanket and step back when she made a frustrated noise.

“No. I trust you. I do.” He wasn’t sure who she was trying harder to convince, him or herself. But resolve rang clear in her voice, and he couldn’t help but grin. There was the strong-willed, stubborn dame he’d come to know over the last several months.

“Alright, Darce. Let me know when you’re ready. 

She took a deep breath, then pushed the blanket back. “I’m ready.”

 

* * *

 

“Your eyes are the same,” was all he said.

The panic that had been rising in her chest hesitated.

It sat there, so tight she could hardly breathe, but his gaze never wavered.

No pity shone in his eyes, just truth. For a frozen moment, nothing happened, but then the panic whooshed back out of her lungs.

She could breathe again.

 

* * *

 

“Sergeant Barnes, I’m going to need you to step outside,” Dr. Cho gently reminded him. Bucky almost argued; he’d been the sole person taking care of Darcy since the incident. He’d helped her bathe, for God’s sake.

The doctor shot him a look, then cut her eyes in Dr. Foster’s direction, and he realized: if all went according to plan, then Darcy would soon be back in her own skin.

He squeezed her hand, and she clutched it desperately for a long moment. With a brave smile, she said, “I’ll be okay. Get out of here, Bucky.”

Leaning in close, staring into her eyes—the ones that wouldn’t change no matter what happened to the rest of her—he whispered, “You _will_ be okay, doll. No matter what. I’ll be right out in the hallway.”

Then he beat a hasty retreat.

 

* * *

 

“Dude, I was wondering, if this doesn’t work—do you think we need to come up with a new name for Darcy?”

Bucky straightened from his slouch against the wall, where he had been attempting to meditate. “What did you just say?” he asked in a low tone.

The science goon—Bucky remembered his face from the personnel files, but didn’t know his name—didn’t get the hint. “You know, now that she’s a man. Who knows if Jane’s going to be able to fix the whole—” he waved his hand vaguely, “—situation.”

“A _man_?”

With a smirk, the guy joked, “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed! C’mon, dude, it’s a little hard to miss.”

It was too much, and Bucky snapped. With a step in the other man’s direction, he demanded, “Is Darcy still Darcy?”

The scientist stared at him like he was stupid. “Yeah?”

“Then she’s a fucking woman, asshole. Don’t say that shit again.”

The other man stared at him, gobsmacked. Slowly, he closed his mouth and nodded solemnly. “Yeah, dude, sorry. Take it easy—it was just a joke.”

Bucky huffed and seriously contemplated the consequences of kicking the man’s ass. With effort, he turned away. He couldn’t chance it—Darcy might need him, and he had no time for idiots.

That didn’t stop him from shooting a quick text message to Stark, though.

And when he heard later that the guy had been fired, Bucky felt a vicious stab of satisfaction.

 

* * *

 

Blinking bleary eyes, Darcy looked up to see Bucky frozen in the doorway, a plum in his hand. She waved carelessly at him, and turned back to watching the mindless cooking show on TV.

He took the gesture for the invitation it was and stepped closer. Hovering next to the couch for a moment, he eventually asked, “Couldn’t sleep?”

The words were a little stilted, which was understandable; they hadn’t seen each other much since Jane and Co. had successfully reversed Darcy’s transformation. The scientists had been smothering her with apologies and overbearing affection ever since.

Even with the awkwardness, Darcy felt more comfortable talking to Bucky about the whole thing than anyone else. Which is why she answered with honesty, rather than a flimsy excuse. “No, not easily. I’m scared to try. I’ve been having dreams—nightmares—where I’m still trapped in that other body.”

She shuddered, the irrational fear returning at the memory, and Bucky set his plum down on the table and took the seat next to her. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms and leaned back against the cushions.

She nestled into him, and added, “But other than that, I feel okay.”

His breath ghosted across her cheek and forehead. “Yeah?”

She hummed. “Mhmm. I feel like me again.”

A hand carded itself through her hair, pressing her closer into his shoulder. “I’m glad to hear it, doll.” As he spoke, his breath stirred the hair on top of her head. She shivered, burrowing even deeper into his warmth.

Finally, she was able to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. Neither of them moved until morning.

 

* * *

 

“When are you going to do something about that?” Jane hooked her chin over Darcy’s shoulder as she spoke.

Praying that Bucky didn’t turn around and catch the two of them staring at him (and certain parts of his anatomy—he looked way too good in his tac suit), Darcy shrugged her off with a huff.

Turning away from the beautiful sight, she denied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jane scoffed. In a gentler tone, she said, “Yes, you do. And I’ve never seen Darcy Lewis hesitate to go after what she wants.” After a slight pause, she added, “He stared at you, too, you know.”

Darcy looked up at that. “I just—what if it’s just concern, after everything? We’re so close, now. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Then you should find out.”

“How?”

With a grin that would put a mad scientist to shame, Jane proclaimed, “With an experiment, of course.”

 

* * *

 

Steve took one look at Bucky’s face and laughed. Pretending to check the clock, he asked, “Aren’t you usually meditating at this time, Buck? Is everything alright?”

Running a shaky hand through his hair, Bucky bluffed, “Decided to quit early today, that’s all.”

“And your decision has nothin’ to do with the fact that Darcy’s doin’ yoga in there right now?”

Yes. “No.”

His friend sighed. “You keep runnin’ away, and the girl is gonna get the wrong idea.”

Bucky stared at him, arrested. “What? She’s just doin’ yoga in the gym, as the doctor ordered. She’s gotta keep her muscles from seizing after all the trauma.” So what if Bucky paid attention to every single aspect of Darcy’s medical instructions? He cared about the girl.

Steve leveled him with a skeptical look. “Sure. And she just happens to come in at the same time you meditate every day.” When Bucky said nothing in reply, he added, “Oh, just like last week when she absolutely needed the one bowl that was between you and the counter?”

He laughed at the look on Bucky’s face. “Come on, Buck. I thought I was supposed to be the clueless one. She’s been tossin’ out signals left and right. Are you not gettin’ them?” Steve peered at his friend closely. “Or do you not _want_ to be gettin’ them?”

Bucky didn’t answer. He was already gone.

 

* * *

 

Still grinning, Steve pulled out his phone and texted Natasha. _I win_.

Less than a minute later, his phone dinged. _отвали_. _;)_

 

* * *

 

Sighing dejectedly as she rolled up her yoga mat, Darcy muttered, “Well, I guess that answers that.”

The whoosh of the door was startling. She was surprised to see Bucky, striding toward her purposefully—and boy, all of a sudden she understood the superhero fangirls’ obsession with his ‘murder strut’. She barely had enough time to fully stand up (and none at all to catch her breath at the sight he made) before he was there, crowding into her personal space.

He sweetly cupped her face in his hands, eyes flickering from her eyes to her mouth and back. With a muttered, “Sorry, doll. I’m an idiot,” he brushed her hair behind her ear, then leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers.

She opened her mouth to his immediately, stumbling forward and wrapping her arms around him. The yoga mat fell to the floor with a thump, completely forgotten. Their tongues slid against each other blissfully and he pulled her closer, until she was flush against his body. The salt from her mouth transferred to his, and she licked at it. In return, his hands moved along her shoulders around to her back and tangled themselves in her long hair. He tugged lightly, and Darcy moaned. She was utterly boneless with pleasure, basking in the feeling of them finally coming together. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his back. He nibbled on her lip lightly, then soothed it with his tongue.

They eventually broke apart when the need for air became too much. Bucky pressed their foreheads together and stroked her back.

Darcy panted, “Not exactly how I imagined our first kiss, but it works.”

With a saucy grin, Bucky joked, “What? The gym isn’t romantic enough for you, doll?” Before she could reply, he confessed, “It’s not how I imagined it, either. Was gonna take you somewhere nice, on a real date.”

She reached up and brought his face back down to hers for another hot kiss. Breaking away, she smoothed her hand down his chest and abs and dipped her fingers below his waistband. “I think the fancy date is gonna have to wait, Bucky.”

His eyes darkened, and he bit his lip. “Yeah?”

Grinning from ear to ear, Darcy nodded. Nothing had ever felt so right, and she was way past playing it cool. “Yeah.”

Without wasting another second, Bucky tossed her over his shoulder and headed for the door.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [bloomsoftly](bloomsoftly.tumblr.com)
> 
> [send me a prompt!](bloomsoftly.tumblr.com/ask)


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